Start the Fire
by shadowphoenix55
Summary: There was enough potion in the bottle for both Harry and Hermione go to face Quirrelmort. Hermione gets injured in the fight, and Harry later realizes that two things: Voldemort's after him, and he isn't going to leave his friends unharmed. With a new determination, the Golden Trio bands together to figure out how to fight Voldemort before all is lost… Butterfly effect.
1. Fear the Dark

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter, not me. All characters and plot that are in her books are hers._

Note: Some of this chapter has been quoted or paraphrased from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_.

 **Prologue - Fear the Dark**

 **Author's Note:** This is the first chapter of _Start the Fire_. This chapter is a bit shorter than the rest, the word count only totaling around seven thousand words. The next chapters will be longer, so updates will come slowly - the next chapter will probably come in a week to three weeks. Here's the summary:

There was enough in the potion bottle for two, so both Harry and Hermione go to face Quirrelmort. Hermione gets injured in the fight, and Harry later realizes that two things: Voldemort's after him, and he isn't going to leave his friends unharmed. With a new determination, the Golden Trio bands together, and, with the help of their friends and family, try figure out how to fight Voldemort before all is lost… Butterfly effect. Canon divergence at end of first year.

I am also looking for a beta reader for this story.

And here is the prologue:

 _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

 _Two of us will help you, whichever you would find,_

 _One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

 _Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

 _Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

 _Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

 _Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

 _To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

 _First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

 _You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

 _Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

 _But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

 _Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

 _Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

 _Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

 _Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

Hermione let out a great sigh and Harry, amazed, saw that she was smiling, the very last thing he felt like doing.

"Brilliant," Hermione said, "This isn't magic - it's logic - a puzzle. A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here forever."

"But so will we, won't we?" Asked Harry, confused.

"Of course not," Hermione replied, "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire, and one will get us back through the purple."

"But how do we know which to drink?" Harry questioned. He faintly wondered why it was always _him_ who asked the questions and _Hermione_ who answered him. Harry's brain quickly supplied him with something:

 _Ask Hermione._

Harry wanted to smash his brain against a wall.

"Give me a minute." Hermione was saying. She read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands.

"Got it," she said, "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire - toward the Stone."

Harry looked at the tiny bottle.

"I think there's enough for both of us," he said.

They looked at each other.

"Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" Harry asked.

Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.

"You drink that," said Harry. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but he continued on, "No, listen, get back and get Ron. Grab brooms from the flying key room, and they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy - go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, we need him. I might be able to hold Snape off for a while, but I'm no match for him, really."

"But Harry - what if You-Know-Who's with him?"

"Well - I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar, "I might get lucky again."

Hermione stared at Harry, and then lifted her head, defiance flashing through her eyes.

"No, Harry, you listen," Hermione said, "I'm coming with you. That was decided weeks ago - months, really."

Harry stared at Hermione for a few moments, before grabbing the bottle and holding it out to her.

"You're a really _really_ good friend, you know, Hermione." Harry said, "Ron too."

"I'm not as good as a friend you," Hermione replied, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Me!" Harry said, "I've only saved you from a troll accidentally. You - you're risking getting hurt for me." Harry realized what he'd just said, "Oh Hermione - be careful!"

"You too, Harry." Hermione said, took a small drink from the tiny bottle, and shuddered.

"It's not poison?" Harry asked anxiously.

"No - but it's like ice." Hermione replied, handing Harry the bottle. Harry quickly drank the remains - his body did quite feel like ice - and the two turned to the black flames.

"Quick, let's go, before it wears off." Hermione said, her voice a bit shaky.

"Good luck." Harry said, and with a sudden jolt of confidence, grabbed Hermione's hand, "We're in this together."

"Together." Hermione echoed, and they walked straight through the fire.

Together.

Harry saw the black flames licking his and Hermione's bodies, but he couldn't feel them - for a moment he could see nothing

but dark fire - then he was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was already someone there - but it wasn't Snape. It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Quirrell.

"You!" gasped Harry.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all.

"Me," He replied calmly, "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter. And who do you have with you? Ah yes, Miss Granger."

"But I thought - Snape -" Harry said, confused.

"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp, "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't

he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harry couldn't take it in. This couldn't be true, it couldn't, "But Snape tried to kill me!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill you. Your friend Miss Granger - you would know, wouldn't you? - accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I'd have got you off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save you."

Professor Quirrell gave Hermione a dark look.

"Snape was trying to save me?"

"Of course," Professor Quirrell replied coolly, "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really... he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular... and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out of thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harry and Hermione.

Wait, no. _Not_ Hermione. Hermione has dodged out of the way, wand in hand, and cast:

"Expelliarmus!"

Professor Quirrell's eyes widened as he saw the red spell streaking towards him - and yet, somehow, he had dodged out of the way just in time.

"Now, you, Miss Granger, are a resourceful one…" He said, stepping a bit closer to Hermione as Harry watched, helpless, "You know, you could always join our side. You don't seem like the type to want to lose, and we will most certainly not."

"Who's this _we_?" Hermione asked, her hand that was gripping her wand white.

"Why, the Dark Side, of course." Professor Quirrell said with a chuckle, "The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters."

Harry watched as Hermione stared at the Professor for a moment, and, to Harry's horror, slightly lowered her wand.

"You would learn much, much more than you do at Hogwarts with us." Professor Quirrell tempted, "So many new things - you would _like_ that, wouldn't you, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione don't!" Harry shouted, struggling against his binds. Quirrell turned to him, glaring.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter." He began, "Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?" Harry asked, hoping to draw his attention away from Hermione.

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls - you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off - and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly.

"Now, wait quietly, Potter." Quirrell continued, turning back to Hermione, "So? Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned away from Quirrell, taking a breath. And then, she replied:

"I've had this feeling for a long time." Hermione said, "It made me different from all of my classmates. I always worked harder, I wanted to be the _best_. This chance - it could give me that."

Quirrell grinned.

Harry's eyes widened.

"I - I know, now, what I have to do." Hermione replied, "I've known it for a long time, now. I know who I choose."

"Good, then - " Quirrell started -

Hermione whirled around, her wand in hand.

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Harry then realized that Hermione had been on his side all along she had just been stalling. He smiled as her spell shot towards Quirrel -

Only for him to drop to the floor and for it to miss.

Professor Quirrell began to stand up, his eyes furious, but then, a voice murmured something. He pause - they all did - and then took his wand out and pointed it directly at Hermione.

"I think," He said, "It's time for you to learn a lesson: _never_ mess with the Dark Lord."

Hermione opened her mouth to cast another spell -

"CRUCIO!"

Quirrell watched, his wand still pointed at Hermione, as his spell hit her, driving her to her knees. She twitched, as if attempting to stop herself from doing something.

And then she screamed.

Harry watched in absolute horror as his best friend collapsed on the floor, twitching everywhere and screaming as Professor Quirrell cackle with glee.

"Stop!" Harry shouted at him, "Stop it -"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"STOP HURTING HER!" Harry screamed, his voice topping Hermione's. Quirrel turned to him for a moment, and then, seemingly listening to someone, nodded and flicked his wand.

Hermione stopped screaming at once, her limp body laying on the floor, the only thing that signaled that she was alive was the sound of her breathing shakily and twitching once and awhile.

"Now, see, Potter." He started, "I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell announced, "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this... but he's in London... I'll be far away by the time he gets back..."

Professor Quirrell stared hungrily into the mirror.

"I see the Stone... I'm presenting it to my master... but where is it?"

Harry struggled against the ropes binding him again, but they didn't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror - and to have him forget about Hermione, who was still on the floor -

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much." Harry said.

"Oh, he does," said Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead."

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing - I thought Snape was threatening you..."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face.

"Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions - he is a great wizard and I am weak -"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harry gasped.

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly, "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of

ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly, "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me..."

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harry was remembering his trip to Diagon Alley - how could he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell there that very day, shaken hands with him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Quirrell stopped speaking, and looked back at Hermione.

 _No._

"Master says that I should use _you_." He said, speaking to Harry.

"No." Harry said defiantly, "I'm not helping the person who tortured Hermion-"

"Expelliarmus." It was a whisper, but both Harry and Quirrell turned to see that Hermione had sat up and had cast a spell at Quirrell again. Harry, for the third time, watched as Hermione's spell almost struck true - but, yet again, Quirrel moved out of the way. Harry thought that at least Quirrell had moved so fast that he had fallen to the floor again. His left arm had been scraped on a sharp rock, and Harry's professor cursed again.

Quirrell stood up, drawing his wand on an exhausted Hermione.

Her eyes widened.

His eyes widened.

His eyes widened.

"CRUCIO!"

Hermione was forced back onto the floor so hard that there was a mighty _crack_. She started screaming once again, twitching harder than before and keeping on screaming - screaming in pain - it sounded like so much pain -

"FINE I'LL DO IT!" Harry shouted, wanting more than anything in the world for it to stop, for him to stop - Hermione had to stop hurting, he would do _anything_ -

Hermione stopped screaming again. Quirrell had canceled the spell.

Quirrell clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off. Harry got slowly to his feet, trembling and trying to take his eyes away from Hermione, who's head had hit the stone floor and was bleeding.

"Come here," Quirrell said to Harry, "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him, glancing back at Hermione.

 _I must lie,_ he thought desperately, _I must look and lie about what I see, that's all._ After all Hermione had done, he couldn't give in, no, not now.

Quirrell moved close behind him. Harry breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban and closed his eyes. He stepped in front of the mirror, and opened them again.

He saw his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at him. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket - and as it did so, Harry felt something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow - incredibly - he'd gotten the Stone.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently, "What do you see?"

Harry gathered his courage. This was for Hermione - for Ron - for his parents - for _Hogwarts_ -

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented, "I - I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it? He could grab Hermione and run, maybe. But her head was still bleeding, and he didn't want to make it worse - no, that would be very, very bad.

But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies... He lies..."

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted, "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again.

"Let me speak to him... face-to-face..."

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough... for this..."

Harry felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting him to the spot. He couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban.

The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. His attention was now less focused on Hermione and more focused on the face that was where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head. It was the most terrible face Harry had ever seen - chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter..." it whispered.

Harry had never been so scared in his life. He tried to take a step backward, to get out of there and save at least Hermione, but his legs wouldn't move.

"See what I have become?" the face said, "Mere shadow and vapor ... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own… take your friend with me and teach her the ways of the Dark Arts… Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

As the face spoke of Hermione, the feeling suddenly surged back into Harry's legs. He stumbled backward, courage filling him up. Maybe he _was_ actually a Gryffindor, if he could do that, but all he was really thinking about was Hermione, and how she had to _leave_ -

"Don't be a fool," snarled the face, "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly. Quirrell had tried to sway Hermione as well. She hadn't been tempted, so he would stay strong as well.

Quirrell was walking backward at him, so that Voldemort could still see him. The evil face was now smiling.

"How touching..." it hissed, "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!"

Harry sprang toward Hermione, ready to run, but Voldemort screamed;

"SEIZE HIM!"

And the next second, Harry felt Quirrell's hand close on his wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seared across Harry's scar; his head felt as though it was about to split in two; he yelled, struggling with all his might, and to his surprise, Quirrell let go of him. The pain in his head lessened - he looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone, and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers - they were blistering before his eyes. Behind him as Hermione, still bleeding, reminding him he had to leave - he scrambled up onto his feet -

"Seize him! SEIZE HIM!" shrieked Voldemort again, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harry clean off his feet and landing on top of him, both hands around Harry's neck - Harry's scar was almost blinding him with pain, yet he could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold him - my hands - my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning Harry to the ground with his knees, let go of his neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms - Harry could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny. A small part of him thought that maybe this would be worth it, if he could avenge Hermione in the act of killing Quirrell as he died. Maybe she wouldn't be taken by Voldemort, if he could kill Quirrell, and Dumbledore or one of the teachers would realize that they had gone missing, come check, find her, and she would live. Yes, Hermione had too live...

"Then kill him, fool, and be done!" screeched Voldemort.

Quirrell raised his wand to perform a deadly curse, but Harry, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face -

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off him, his face blistering, too, and then Harry knew: Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain - his only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

Harry jumped to his feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as he could. Quirrell screamed and tried to throw Harry off - the pain in Harry's head was building - he couldn't see - he could only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of:

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!" and other voices, maybe in Harry's own head, crying:

"Harry! Harry!"

He felt Quirrell's arm wrenched from his grasp, knew all was lost - he hadn't even avenged Hermione, hadn't even killed Voldemort- and fell into blackness,

down …

down…

down...

* * *

Something gold was glinting just above him. The Snitch! He tried to catch it, but his arms were too heavy.

He blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.

He blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above him.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. Harry stared at him. Then he remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick - Hermione - she's down there - he cast a spell - I didn't recognize it - it was like _Cruico_ or something, and Herm-"

Dumbledore looked very grave.

"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," He said, even though he did not look very calm himself. In fact, he looked very unsettled, "Quirrell does not have the Stone."

"Then who does? And what about Hermio-"

"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out." Professor Dumbledore intterupted.

Harry swallowed and looked around him. He realized he must be in the hospital wing. He was lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to him was a table piled high with what looked like half the candy shop.

But _what had happened to Hermione_ -

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," Headmaster Dumbledore supplied, speaking of the stack of candy and beaming, "What happened down in the dungeons between you, Professor Quirrell, and Miss Granger is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. Or thinks they do, anyways. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"Yes, sir, but what about _Hermione_?" Harry asked, ignoring what the Headmaster had said.

"Miss. Granger is at Saint Mungo's, a magical hospital." Professor Dumbledore said, again turning grave. The spell cast on her was the Cruciatus curse. An Unforgivable - a spell that would of put Professor Quirrell in prison for the rest of his days, if you had not defeated him first."

Harry had too many questions to speak them all at once.

"But will she be alright?" Harry asked. Professor Dumbledore hesitated, before smiling a smile that Harry thought, with a lurch in his stomach, that looked frighteningly fake, before replying:

"Yes, Harry. She will hopefully be back at school in a few days, but she may stay at Saint Mungo's until the year is over so she can recover."

Harry swallowed back tears.

 _How bad was Hermione, if Professor Dumbledore felt like he had to lie?_

"How long have I been in here?" Harry asked instead, pushing away his tears.

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley will be most relieved you have come round, he has been extremely worried."

"But sir, the Stone-"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you. I arrived in time to

prevent that, although you were doing very well on your own, I must say." Professor Dumbledore replied, "I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you."

"It was you."

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him off the Stone much longer -"

"Not the Stone, boy, you - the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Harry said blankly, "But your friend - Nicolas Flamel -"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" replied Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted, "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"Well, it was mostly Hermione." Harry said, blinking back tears, "She was really brilliant."

Professor Dumbledore simply stared at Harry for a few moments.

"You should keep your friends very close, Harry." he said, "True friends are worth everything - you cannot buy or sell them for all of the Galleons in the Potter vaults. Not even for the Sorcerer's Stone."

Harry said nothing, curling up into a small ball. He still had Ron, but he had lost Hermione. He _hadn't_ kept her close - he had sat and _watched_ as she was torchered to - to d-d-de-

His brain couldn't form the words.

There was silence for a few more moments, and then, Harry, not knowing what to do, broke it.

"Does that mean they will die, then?" Harry asked, "Him and his wife?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement and - well, a bit of sorrow - on Harry's face.

"To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas

and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all - the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them." Harry sat there, lost for words, only half listening to the Headmaster. His mind was still on Hermione.

"Sir?" asked Harry, wondering if he had at least destroyed Voldemort once and for all and avenged his best friend, "I've been thinking... sir - even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who -"

"Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself." Dumbledore admonished lightly.

"Yes, sir. Is Voldemort dead?"

"No, Harry, he is not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share... not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time - and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

Harry sucked in a breath and attempted to casually wipe away a tear that had leaked out of his eye. He hadn't done it - he hadn't done it for Hermione.

Then he said, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me... things I want to know the truth about..."

"The truth." Dumbledore sighed, "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well... Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day... put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older... I know you hate to hear this... when you are ready, you will know."

Harry knew it would be no good to argue. He didn't have the will to do it, then, anyways.

"But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now became very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gave Harry time to dry his eyes on the sheet. Everybody seemed to be dying for him - his mother, his father, and - and - Herm-

He couldn't think that. No, not if the possibility of her being alive was still there.

When Professor Dumbledore looked back, Harry stammered:

"C-could you l-l-leave me alone, sir, p-please?" Harry's voice was shaking, and he turned away so Professor Dumbledore couldn't see that he was crying, "I-I er- am tired."

"Of course." Professor Dumbledore replied, and Harry heard his footsteps slowly fade away.

Harry turned over on his bed a few times before he got comfortable. By that time, however, his pillow was wet with his tears from mourning. Mourning Hermione, mourning his mum, his dad, mourning that he had to live without them. He mourned. And he mourned. And he mourned. He mourned until his sadness turned to anger. His anger was so fierce he thought it was going to make him explode. Voldemort had done this, and he was going to _pay_. It was now clear to Harry that Voldemort was after _him_ , and wasn't going to leave his friends unhurt in the fight. Harry wasn't going to allow anybody else he liked to die; no. Not Ron, not Professor Dumbledore, not Professor McGonagall… nobody. And the only way to do that was to learn. He had to learn as fast as Hermione - maybe even more. He would learn how to fight, and what Voldemort's weaknesses were. He would learn battle tactics. He would get good - he would get so good that he would be _better_ than Voldemort.

And then?

And then, Voldemort was going _down._

* * *

"Harry!"

Harry looked up from his books - the one he was reading now was _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts,_ for the first time in eleven and a half hours. Ron was standing there, looking happy to see him and confused as to why he was reading a book.

"The whole school's talking about it," Ron said, "What really happened?"

Harry stared at Ron. He opened his mouth. No sound came out. He wasn't really sure that he could get through the story without breaking down again… the act of thinking about it brought tears…

But Hermione deserved to have her story told. So Harry gathered up his courage and began to talk.

He started where he and Hermione had left Ron, and told the heart-wrenching tale from there. It was one of those rare occasions when the true story was even more strange and terrifying than the wild rumors. Harry told Ron everything: Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; Hermione; and Voldemort. Ron was a very good audience. He gasped in all the right places, and when Harry told them what was under Quirrell's turban, his friend almost screamed out loud.

But when Ron lost it was when Harry began telling the part where Quirrell _Crucio_ ed Hermione.

"A-a-and th-then he s-said that Voldemort w-wanted to u-u-use _me_ t-to g-get the Stone, and I-I said no." Harry stammered through tears, "A-A-And w-we h-heard her s-s-say _E-expelliarmus_ again, and then - Q-Quirrell s-s-still dodged. H-he had a g-gash down h-his arm though, f-from the f-f-fall. And, and then, and then he stood b-back up and d-d-drew his w-wand on H-Hermione and c-cast _it_ a-again and she w-was just s-s-screaming and there was a c-c-crack because her h-h-head hit the f-floor a-a-and s-s-she was, she was, she was - she was b-b-bleeding r-r-really b-bad so I t-t-old h-h-h-him I'd do it i-if h-he s-stopped -"

Ron, the tough Ron Harry had known for a whole school year, who had been crying since Quirrell first _Cruico_ ed Hermione, sat down next to Harry on his bed and curled up like he had.

Harry stopped his story, and the two sobbed together until Ron wiped away a tear and told him to keep going.

Harry finished the story, both of them crying the rest of the way through.

"She was brave until the very end." Ron whispered after his tears had stopped a bit, his eyes red,.

"Yeah." Harry agreed. The two sat there for awhile, before -

"So the Stone's gone?" Ron asked finally, "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that - what was it? - 'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

Harry said this with a few sniffles.

"I always said he was off his rocker," Ron said quietly.

More silence.

"Listen, we've got to get back at him." Ron said.

Harry looked up, startled.

"This isn't your fight, Ron." He said, "I can't lose you too-"

"And I can't lose you!" Ron shouted, "Listen, Harry, we're all in this together. Hermione was my friend too, and I deserve to be able to avenger her."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it. He swallowed, hesitant, and then nodded.

"We've got to be careful, though." Harry said. Ron emphatically nodded his head.

More silence.

"Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course - you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you - but the food'll be good." Ron said at last.

Harry nodded.

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustled over.

"You've had nearly thirty five minutes, now OUT!"

* * *

"I want to go to the feast," Harry told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened his many candy boxes, "I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said stiffly, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be, "And you have another visitor."

"Who is it?" Asked Harry quietly.

Hagrid sidled through the door as he spoke. As usual when he was indoors, Hagrid looked too big to be allowed. He sat down next to Harry, took one look at him, and burst into tears.

"It's - all - my - ruddy - fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands, "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could've died! And 'ermione - All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out an' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"Hagrid!" said Harry, shocked to see Hagrid shaking with grief and remorse, great tears leaking down into his beard, even though he himself had experienced the same level of sorrow, "Hagrid, he'd have found out somehow, this is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could've died!" sobbed Hagrid. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked, he stopped crying, "I've met him and I'm calling him by his name. Hermione's really badly injured because of him, and I'm not giving into him - I'm not going to show him I'm afraid by not saying his name!" And then, in a kinder tone, "Please cheer up, Hagrid, we saved the Stone, it's gone, he can't use it. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads..."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

"It's not a stoat sandwich, is it?" said Harry anxiously, and at last Hagrid gave a weak chuckle, "Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. 'Course, he shoulda sacked me instead - anyway, got yeh this..."

It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father. And at the very back was him, Ron, and Hermione all sitting together talking under an oak tree at the school.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos... knew yeh didn' have any... and the last one's 'rom me - d'yeh like it?"

Harry couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

Harry made his way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. He had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving him one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked out in the Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the house cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covered the wall behind the High Table.

When Harry walked in there was a sudden hush, and then everybody started talking loudly at once. He slipped into a seat next to

at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at him.

"It's Potter..."

"But Granger's not here… where is she, then?"

"Look, Harry's back..."

"I wonder what actually happened - we should go ask-"

"No, don't do that, he's probably not ready.."

"Look, it's Harry Potter..."

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away slowly.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore began cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy- two."

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. Harry could see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," Dumbledore continued, "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little, adn some of them were outright glaring.

"Ahem," Dumbledore said, "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…

"First - to Mr. Ronald Weasley..."

Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with a bad sunburn. It was bad even for the Weasley red.

"...for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house seventy points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other prefects:

"My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last there was silence again.

"Second, to Neville Longbottom," Dumbledore continued, "There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

The Gryffindors clapped and cheered. Seamus and Dean launched themselves on Neville to give him congratulations.

"Third - to Mr. Harry Potter," the room went deadly quiet, "for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house eighty points."

The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin had. They had tied for the house cup - if only Dumbledore had given Harry just one more point. But that was not what Harry was thinking about - he was thinking about Hermione, and how she didn't get any points…

Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent.

"And finally, to Miss Hermione Granger... for standing up for what she believed and fighting for her friends with her life, I cannot give enough points. So, I will instead do the best I can - to Hermione Granger, I give a The Special Award for Services to the School trophy…"

No one in the Great Hall moved.

"And two hundred points to Gryffindor."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place.

The Gryffindor table had erupted in cheers. Harry and Ron stood up to yell and cheer for their best friend. Harry, still cheering, nudged Ron in the ribs and pointed at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings toward him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry; he had worse things to worry about now. And, besides, Snape's remarks and behavior towards him seemed like nothing now that he had seen Hermione tortured by Voldemort.

A cheer had taken up among the students at the Gryffindor table, asn it was starting to spread to the others:

"All Hail Hermione the Heroine! All Hail Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!"

Harry felt as if Hermione were here, she would be very happy. He was, for one, was happy to see all of these people supporting her, even though they did not know why. He opened his mouth to cheer as well. It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch, or Christmas, or knocking out mountain trolls... he would never, ever forget tonight.

And then, when the din rose to be deafening -

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

* * *

And that's the Prologue!


	2. Gather the Kindling

_**Disclaimer:**_

 _Note: Some of this chapter has been quoted or paraphrased from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets._

 **Chapter One - Gather the Kindling**

 **Author's Notes:** **Ok, there's a lot, so this is in the order of importance, with the main topics bolded:**

1) OF THE MOST IMPORTANCE: This chapter skips roughly important nine months of a certain _someone_ 's life, simply because there would be to much to fit into the chapter and the plot line cannot be pushed over to other chapters. **I am thinking about writing a seperate story for what this chapter misses. If you have an opinion if I should do this or not, let me know!**

2) **I'm looking for a beta reader for this story.** PM me if you would like to be that person.

3) Ginny cast a high level spell in this chapter though somebody else's wand. Note, **this is a mix between wanded and accidental magic, but is mostly accidental, and this is the only reason why Ginny is able to do that high level of magic. She's not a magical prodigy,** and she's only 11 years old.

4) I know in the books if you're a prefect, it is kind of assumed you stay a prefect for the entire rest of your schooling at Hogwarts, but **to make the story flow more, I showed Percy getting a confirmation letter with a new prefect badge attached.**

5) **Harry does something between accidental and wandless magic in this story. I am following the thinking that accidental and wandless magic is counted as accidental using the trace, so that's why Harry doesn't get a million letters for the Ministry. Also, House Elf Magic is** _ **not**_ **counted as accidental magic in the books, so I'm just leaving that as it is.** So when Dobby does his magic, Harry gets blamed, but when _Harry_ does something between wandless and accidental magic (uncontrolled magic), he doesn't get into trouble.

Yeah. You can see the flaws in _that_ system.

7) Just for clarification: because this chapter has a lot of different point of views (POVs), **I put who is the narrator for almost every scene. In other chapters, if it doesn't say, assume that it is the last person's point of view continued on** (if it is the beginning of a chapter and it doesn't say what POV it is, it will be Harry's).

...

Ok, now that _that_ is out of the way, **onto the story:**

The whole Great Hall stared at the doors, silent. Someone was knocking.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

Ok, maybe it was a catapult or something. Harry would have thought it was Hagrid if the groundskeeper hadn't been sitting up at the teacher's table.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

"Well, someone should get that, I suppose." Professor Dumbledore commented lightly. A tall Ravenclaw Prefect ran to the doors and unlocked them. The doors opened to reveal -

Harry's breath caught.

Ron's breath caught.

The whole _hall_ 's breath caught.

Nothing.

 _No one_ was there.

No one.

"Well, then." Professor Dumbledore said cheerily, "Onto the feast!"

* * *

 _-Harry's POV-_

Harry had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron passed with good marks. Professor McGonagall announced one night in the Gryffindor Common Room, with some tears that she quickly tried to hide, that Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Speaking of which, "Miss Granger" hadn't come back.

Even Neville scraped through with his marks, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Crabbe and Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but they had passed, too. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn't have everything in life.

And Hermione hadn't come back.

Harry told Ron of his plans, and they divvied up the research load for the summer; Ron, because he had the connections to the Wizarding World over the summer, was going to look into Voldemort's weaknesses and why he would come after Harry. Harry was going to read up about new spells they could learn and was going to do some reading to see if he could find anything to help what Ron was going to research. And, since both of them wanted to do it, they both would try to figure out battle tactics and strategies to defeat Voldemort.

Hermione still hadn't come back. Harry and Ron began doubting she was even still alive; there had been no official announcement, but there were plenty of rumors circulating that she had. And Harry had practically seen her bleeding and being tortured to death back down in the Stone room.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," said Fred Weasley sadly); Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake.

Hermione still hadn't come back.

They were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier; starting to research new spells; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and other candies as they sped past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross Station.

It took quite a while for them all to get off the platform. A wizened old guard was up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they didn't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," said Ron, "I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," said Harry, "I'll need something to look forward to."

They waited in silence for a moment -

"And, if you hear from Hermione-" Harry started.

Ron nodded.

"I'll send you an owl." Ron replied, "And you-"

"Will as well." Harry finished. They weren't quite at the Weasley twin level for twin-speech, but they were starting off pretty well. They had practiced a bit on the train as a joke, but they quickly realized it could be useful if they needed to get plans out to each other quickly. It also helped them know what the other was thinking.

And Fred and George had bet the two "firsties" couldn't do it as well as them, but that was beside the point.

Harry was broken out of his thoughts by more people jostling them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, Potter!"

"Still famous," said Ron, grinning at him.

"Not where I'm going, I promise you," said Harry.

He and passed through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mom, there he is, look!"

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she wasn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squealed, "Look, Mom! I can see-"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point."

"Mum where's the other girl Ron was talking about -"

" _Ginny_."

Harry was feeling very malicious by that point, but he forced a smile.

Mrs. Weasley smiled down at them. Her smile seemed forced, as well.

"Busy year?" she asked.

"Very," Harry replied in a whisper, a bit sadly, "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing, dear."

"Ready, are you?"

It was Uncle Vernon, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him stood Aunt Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of their relative.

"You must be Harry's family!" said Mrs. Weasley.

Why did everyone's smile seem forced these days?

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon, "Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day."

He walked away.

Harry hung back for a last word with Ron.

"See you over the summer, then." Ron said.

"Remember to do your part."

"I will."

"For Hermione." Harry whispered so only Ron could hear.

"And, as she said-" Ron continued,

"Together."

They stood there for a moment.

"Have a good holiday, dear." Mrs. Weasley said, as if she was trying to break the silence that must have seemed awkward to her. To Harry and Ron, it was recognition and remembrance of Hermione.

"Oh, I will," Harry replied, trying not to get mad that she interrupted, reminding himself that _Mrs. Weasley didn't know_. They seemed surprised at the grin that was spreading over his face, "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer..."

* * *

 _Two days before Harry Potter's first year at Hogwarts ended..._

It was dark. Very dark. _Suffocatingly_ dark. She was falling, falling down, down, down, into the suffocating darkness. Falling down…

It was very dark.

Why was it so dark?

" _Cruci-"_

"AAAAAARRRRGGGGG!" She was screaming, but she didn't know why. There was no pain. No pain at all - wait. No, it hurt a bit in her head, and in her leg. And she was feeling a bit twitchy.

A bit of light trickled in.

 _But I don't want to gooooooo_ , she thought, _I want to stay heeeerrrreeee..._

More light.

 _Nooooo…_

Darkness again.

She nearly sighed to herself in relief, but her lips wouldn't move.

Wait.

A bit of memory came back.

She was _human_.

She was a she, too.

But… but she was missing something. Or _somethings_.

But she couldn't remember what she forgot. It was increasingly frustrating.

There were murmerings above her. No - wait - to the left. Wait, what _was_ left? It didn't matter; her head was hurting again. All she wanted was for the horrible murmurs to stop, so her head would stop hurting. She whimpered. _Stooooooppppppp..._

But wait.

Murmurs.

Voices.

People.

Witches.

Wizards.

Hogwarts.

 _Harry._

Hermione Granger's eyes flew open.

* * *

 _-Harry's POV-_

 _Two days after Hogwarts ended…_

Harry Potter was a wizard — a wizard fresh from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if the Dursleys, his relatives, were unhappy to have him back for the holidays, it was nothing to how Harry felt.

Harry Potter missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his classes (though perhaps not Snape, the Potions master), the mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and Quidditch. But, most of all, he missed his best friends: Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.

But Hermione Granger was dead and Ron Weasley hadn't written to him in weeks.

All Harry's spellbooks, his wand, robes, cauldron, and Nimbus Two Thousand broomstick had been locked in a cupboard under the stairs by Uncle Vernon the instant Harry had come home. What did the Dursleys care if Harry lost his place on the House Quidditch team because he hadn't practiced all summer? What was it to the Dursleys if Harry went back to school without any of his homework done? Why would the Dursleys worry about if Harry couldn't study to destroy an evil wizard named Voldemort? Uncle Vernon had even padlocked Harry's owl, Hedwig, inside her cage, to stop her from carrying messages to anyone in the wizarding world.

But Harry wasn't going to let a simple padlock get in the way of him reading (and sending letters to Ron). That was what he had to do most of all: study up so he could defeat Voldemort. So, in the dark of night, he snuck down the stairs.

The padlock didn't open with the hairpin Harry had found under the couch, no matter how hard he tried. He was about to give up for the night and go back to his room when he remembered something Hermione had said about accidental magic:

" _Well, it's not really accidental, is it? I mean, at least for me, magical things happened because I really, really wanted them too. I've heard of a type of magic called wandless magic, where wizards and witches can do magic without their wands. Professor Dumbledore can do it, so the books say. Anyways, I'm pretty sure 'accidental' magic is a lesser form of wandless magic - you can't control what is going to happen in accidental magic, but you can make something happen. In wandless magic, you can control both aspects."_

Harry smiled a bit to himself; Hermione was still helping him from the afterlife. He placed his hand upon the lock and _wished_.

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned, before realizing what he'd done wrong.

Harry closed his eyes, thinking of Hermione. And Ron. And Hogwarts and Voldemort and revenge and avenging. He let all of his sorrow and anger build up inside of him, towering over him and practically _screaming_ at the silly little lock -

It was a silent explosion, thankfully, but it was still an explosion. The lock burst into a million pieces, going in every direction. Harry dropped to the floor, not wanting to get hit. A few pieces found their way into his right arm, and Harry grimaced.

Well, he probably should have suspected that. As Hermione said, 'accidental' magic could not control the type of magic done. Harry had simply expected the lock to click open.

He really should have known, for -

Hermione was always right.

* * *

 _-Hermione's POV-_

 _Two days before Hogwarts ended…_

"HARRY!"

Hermione sat up as if a lightning bolt had struck her, her brown, bushy hair flying everywhere and her body screaming in pain. She didn't care. She _remembered_. And, at that moment, all she wanted to do was to save Harry - she had almost saved Harry -

"Shhhh..." Someone said beside her, "Shhhh… It's ok, you're ok now."

It was a tall woman with white clothes on.

"You're at the hospital now." The woman said soothingly, "You're ok..."

"WHERE'S HARRY?!" Hermione shouted, attempting to sit up but being held back by the sheets on the bed she was laying in, "WHERE'S HARRY?!"

The nurse looked very startled.

"Harry? Harry _Potter_?" She asked.

Hermione, later, realized that she must have looked insane, calling out Harry's name and struggling to get out of a bed, her hair flying in every which way. At that moment, however, she had a one-track mindset, and there was nothing that was going to stand in her way. Certainly not insanity, _that_ was for sure.

"YES, HARRY POTTER!" Hermione screamed at the nurse, who stepped back, frightened.

"He-he's fine." The nurse babbled, "H-he's at H-Hogwarts w-with A-Albus D-Du-Dumbledore..."

Hermione smiled an eerie smile and relaxed in the sitting position she was in.

The nurse ran out of the room.

* * *

 _-Ron's POV-_

 _One week after Hogwarts ended…_

Ron Weasley was confused.

He had never felt so many emotions before the whole Sorcerer's Stone fiasco. He had one at a time, then. Now, daily, many emotions overcame him at once - Sadness coupled with determination, courage, and anger was the usual mix. No one had really noticed except for Ginny and Mum, who were giving him odd but pitiful looks. Ron really didn't like when they did that. It wasn't like he needed pity.

So, with his confusion and other emotions bubbling, he threw himself into research. What really mattered to him now was revenge on You-Know-Who - no, not him - _V-V-Voldemort_. There. He'd thought it. And also, he wanted to avenge Hermione. That mattered a lot to him, especially because he hadn't been very nice to her in the beginning of the year.

If the rest of his family didn't realize the crazy amounts of emotion he was going through, they certainly noticed his newly found habit of reading. Mind you, he didn't _like_ reading, but he didn't hate it as much as before. Fred and George teased him mercifully because of it (" _Oh no!" They had said, "Ronniekins is shaping up to be a Prefect!"_ ), Percy pompously congratulated him on becoming more studious, Ginny did nothing, Mom and Dad simply looked confused but a bit prideful, and Bill and Charlie, when they came, teased him a bit, but helped him with his research anyways, when he asked them about V-Vo-Voldemort and battle strategies. Ron quickly learned that he was quite good at thinking about battle tactics. It was quite like chess, in his opinion.

So he settled down in a chair by the fireplace and read.

 _For Hermione._

 _And as she said -_

 _Together._

* * *

 _-Hermione's POV-_

 _One day before Hogwarts ended..._

"She asked about Harry Potter when she first woke." Came a voice from outside, unaware that Hermione Jean granger was listing to her every word, "And she's just been sitting there since, with this eerie smile. She hasn't said anything else."

Hermione grinned. Of _course_ she wouldn't say anything else; she had been occupied with listening to the nurses and people who went by her wing talk. She gathered as much information as she could about what happened that night. And the smile… well, it felt _good_.

"Probably the _Imperious_." Another, more gravelly voice replied, "I'll go check. And don't come in, no matter what you here, until I tell you too."

"Moo-"

The door banged open, and a man looking as though his face was roughly carved from wood ran in, wand drawn. His face was covered with scars, and a chunk of his nose was missing. He had dark brownish grey, grizzled hair, and a wooden leg that was described as having a clawed foot. His eyes were his most shocking feature: one was small and dark while the other was a vivid, electric blue eye that moved around independently from his normal eye. Hermione stared at him as he pointed his wand at her.

" _Cru-_ "

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Hermione shouted, leaping out of her bed and out of the way, her wand in hand and pointed at the man. Surprise flitted across his face as he spun out of the way, laughing.

"Listen, girl-" He said.

"Flipendo!" Hermione snarled, "Expelliarmus!"

The man quickly and smoothly dodged the two spells, roaring with laughter.

"You've got will, girl-"

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione cast.

"Protego!" The man shouted back, and Hermione mentally cursed when her spell dissolved into a bluish transparent shield in front of the man. Her eyes frantically scanned for a way out, but he was blocking the door.

"Wingardium Leviosa." Hermione whispered so he couldn't hear, lifting up an unoccupied bed behind him while pretending to think.

"Well, girl, that was one fight you got there, but I'm not actually a threat." The man said, "I'm Auror Alastor Moody."

Hermione hesitated. The bed was right above his head, and she could drop it at any time, but - what if he was telling the truth?

"Than why did you come in here casting that spell?" Hermione asked, putting as much disdain as she could into her words.

"Because I had to see if you were Imperiused or not." Moody replied, "No one reacts that fast to the Cruciatus unless they've been under it. The imperious curse is-"

"I know what it is." Hermione snapped, "But how do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Because I haven't cast a spell to hurt you all this time." Moody said, "You would have no way to stop me, yet I did nothing."

Hermione _harrumphed._

"I wouldn't be to sure of that." She said, and let the bed crash to the floor on the other side of Moody. The man jumped and turned around, his wand half out.

Hermione laughed maniacally.

* * *

 _-Harry's POV-_

 _Three days after Hogwarts ended..._

In the dark, Harry Potter lay upstairs in his room ("The Smallest Bedroom") at Number Four, Privet Drive, on his bed, reading a book. He rubbed his eyes blearily, knocking his glasses askew.

After grabbing all of his things from the cupboard downstairs, he had first found another padlock to replace the old one and had cleaned up the mess he made. Then, he went to sleep. The next day, however, he began.

He had found absolutely _nothing_ on why Voldemort would have gone after him, so, after two days, he had given up on _that_ particular subject, instead focusing on spells. The one he first tried to find was _expelliarmus_ ; the one Hermione had thought was best to use against Quirrelmort, as Harry began to call him (or _them_ , if you were being particular. After an hour of searching, he had finally found it in the back of one of his books:

 _Spell: The Disarming Charm_

 _Grade Level: Late First year/early second year._

 _Purpose: To remove and object, often a wand, from the recipient's hand._

 _Incantation: Expelliarmus._

 _Wand motion:_

And then there was a diagram that showed the wand motion. A tear trickled out of Harry's eye when he read over Hermione's last words, and what they meant. She had been the best of them all along, really. If her spell had only hit Quirrelm-

But he couldn't think of it without crying, and he certainly did not want to awaken the Dursleys, no, not at this time of night. So Harry fixed his glasses, wiped away his tear, and continued on.

 _For Hermione._

 _And as she said -_

 _Together._

* * *

 _-Alastor Moody's POV-_

 _One day before Hogwarts ended…_

Alastor Moody stood in front of Hermione Granger, watching her laugh, stunned. She had been the closest anyone had ever gotten to killing him… she probably could have done it if she wanted to. Granted, he wasn't going all out on the girl, but still.

"Are going into fourth year?" He asked gravelly. The girl looked much too young to be exiting fourth, but third, maybe… and she didn't have a very wide variety of spells, when she used them. She was a pretty good dueler, however. For a non-auror.

He waited for her to stop laughing. When she did, she wheezed out;

"Just finished first." She said.

Alastor Moody hadn't been so surprised in a very long time.

"Look, Miss-"

"Granger." Hermione supplied, "Hermione Granger."

"Granger, then." Moody continued, "I have a proposition for you."

* * *

 _\- Ginny's POV -_

Noise was normal at the Burrow in the summer, but the weekend Percy received his letter was pandemonium. Fred and George found it first, quickly waking every member of the house.

"WHAT IS THIS?!" George roared from downstairs, his voice echoing through the house as if it was cave, "Again?"

Fred seemed to share his concern. He didn't bother to lower the voice level as he spoke on.

"If this keeps up, we will have two brothers that will have been Head Boy. How are we supposed to live with the shame?"

Ginny didn't bother with changing before she raced down the stairs, Ron hard at her heels. The twins were standing underneath the clock, the hand pointing to _Get to sleep_ , holding an opened letter. A owl was perched on the windowsill, the envelope, entitled to Percy, still attached to it's leg. The owl, impatient, yanked the envelope off and flew out of the window without a backwards glance. She reached the bottom just in time to hear George mutter:

"If Ron becomes a Prefect and then Head Boy after Percy, Lee will never let us hear the end of it."

No one in the Weasley family would have thought this a week ago, but, as soon as Ron got home, he started _reading_ almost as much as _Percy_.

Ginny had sworn to her brothers that she would never be a Prefect. _Ever_. Ron, on the other hand, was too busy reading.

Speaking of Ron, he shot past Ginny and peered over George's shoulder, reading the paper, a look of horror passing over his face. Meanwhile, Fred rummaged through the envelope, looking for something.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, stepping closer to the letter, already guessing what it contained.

"Bad news, that's what." Ron said darkly, passing over the letter, "Percy'll gloat all day."

"Longer." Fred countered gloomily as Ginny grabbed the letter and began to read.

 _Dear Percy Weasley,_

 _In account of your honourable actions, I am happy to proclaim you a Prefect for Gryffindor for the second year in a row. I trust you will uphold the requirements of a Prefect and set a good example for the other students, as you did last year. Attached you will find your new badge along with Prefect requirements and privileges._

Minerva Mcgonagall

 _Minerva Mcgonagall_

 _HOGWARTS PROFESSOR_

"I bet he won't stop gloating until he becomes Head Boy." Ginny commented. Seeing the looks on her brothers' faces, she continued, "Or if someone else in his year does, and then he'll sulk for ages."

They froze as they heard a loud bang of a door from upstairs, and then launched into action. Ginny ran to the envelope Fred had been looking through and put the letter back inside. George was already turning the radio on and Fred was lounging on a kitchen chair, telling a joke to Ron. Ginny sealed the envelope as best as she could and hopped onto a chair beside Ron. She looked up and saw the clock's hand move to _Breakfast time_. George took a seat besides Fred and they waited.

"And now it's time for Gilderoy Lockhart's advice on how to slay a werewolf!" The radio boomed, "Here he is! So, Gilderoy, would you kindly-"

"Change the channel." Fred groaned.

Ron was halfway to the radio when Percy descended the last flight of stairs.

"What is all of the racket about?" He demanded.

"It's breakfast time" Ginny answered, pointing to the clock, "And an owl just dropped something off for you. Fred and George wanted to open it."

Percy shot a glare at Fred and George as he grabbed his letter and opened it, careful not to rip the sealing. They watched as his face lit up and he said;

"I'm a-"

"-Prefect again, we get it." Ron muttered.

"Prefect?! Did someone say Perfect?" Mum said, running into the room, "Congratulations Percy! Soon we'll have two Head Boys in the house!"

Mum hugged Percy, who looked very uncomfortable, tightly. Fred, George, and Ron frowned.

Ever since Ginny had seen Harry Potter for the first time, when he asked her mum where Platform Nine and Three Quarters was, she was entranced by his charm, brilliant sea-green eyes, jet-black hair that seemed to always be untidy, his lightning scar, modesty that her brothers didn't have, and simply his presence were the first five things she had thought of. It had been almost a year since then, and hearing Ron's stories about Hogwarts, she couldn't forget him.

Harry had saved the world, stopping Voldemort from getting the Elixir of Life, getting past the teacher's charms and tricks with Hermione Granger, who Ginny had learned after the Hogwarts Express indedent was _dead_ , and Ron.

Harry had also made the Quidditch team, the youngest seeker in a hundred years, and played well all year.

"He would have won us the Cup if he hadn't gone to stop You-Know-Who." Fred had commented as Ron told Ginny what had happened.

Harry had battled a troll on Halloween, saving Hermione Granger in the process.

"He didn't manage to save the sinks, though." Ron had joked.

Harry had also called You-Know-Who Voldemort, which was brave.

Ron had written a letter yesterday to Harry. He sent Errol and said that the reply would be back in around a week, which would be six days from now, Ginny thought excitedly.

Ron and Harry were a year senior Ginny, so they would be in their second year this year, while Ginny would only be in her first. All of Ginny's brothers were in Gryffindor, but the real reason she wanted to be in Gryffindor was that Harry was in Gryffindor. Getting any other house would be bad, and getting in Slytherin would be the worst. All dark wizards came from Slytherin, and Draco Malfoy, Harry's enemy and Lucius Malfoy's son, was in it too.

Harry was currently with his only living family members, his aunt, uncle, and cousin, who were apparently horrible to him and were muggles. Harry's parents were attacked by Voldemort when he was a baby, and he survived, with his scar to prove it. He had been living in complete ignorance of the fact that he was a wizard until last year, when Hagrid, the Gamekeeper, was sent to retrieve him.

"Good job Percy." Dad commented, the last to come downstairs, "I'm sure you won't be the last of the Prefects in our home, though." He looked at Ron and Ginny, his gaze passing over Fred and George.

"Ginny?" Fred said incredulously, "A Prefect? We've taught her better than that, right George?"

George nodded, and the two stared at Ron, who looked away guiltily.

"Oh no you don't!" Mum scolded angrily, "Ron and Ginny will become Perfects, just you wait. Just like Percy." She looked at Percy with pride and admiration.

"Perfect Percy." George muttered.

He stalked upstairs, Fred trailing close behind.

* * *

 _-Hermione's POV-_

"So, as a recap, you want me to train with you over the summer." Hermione said dryly to Auror Alastor Moody, "Me. Someone who's known that the wizarding world existed for less than a year."

Moody nodded.

"And you're saying that I have to announce to the rest of the world that I'm _dead_ , so Voldemort won't come after me."

Hermione had figured that she should say Voldemort's name, now that she'd met him and survived. She was going to be brave like Harry. And, anyways, Voldemort was more like the Thing-That-Must-Not-Be-Named instead of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Moody nodded.

"And that he most certainly will if I don't."

"Of course, lassie." Moody replied, "You stopped him from getting the Stone, and declined to join him - he'll probably torture you, or make you join his side. But probably both. And he will probably kill your friend and family in the process. And, if he doesn't do any of that by some slight possibility - well, then - CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Hermione simply stared at the auror, who stared back at her, thinking,

 _Why didn't that work?_

"And you want me to go back to Hogwarts with a new name under a glamor, so no one will think I'm myself."

"Exactly!" Moody said, "Except that you're going back as a fourth year, so no one will even suspect. And you will be six months older, so you should be going into third year."

"So I'm going to learn four years of schooling in three months." Hermione's voice still sounded sarcastic, "And age nine months in three. With what, exactly?"

Moody pulled out a golden hourglass.

* * *

- _Harry's POV-_

It was Harry Potter's birthday, and the Dursleys hadn't even remembered it.

Of course, his hopes hadn't been high; they'd never given him a real present, let alone a cake — but to ignore it completely…

At that moment, Uncle Vernon cleared his throat importantly and said, "Now, as we all know, today is a very important day."

Harry looked up, hardly daring to believe it.

"This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career," said Uncle Vernon.

Harry went back to his toast. Of course, he thought bitterly, Uncle Vernon was talking about the stupid dinner party. He'd been talking of nothing else for two weeks. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a huge order from him.

And Harry, well, he would probably be saying what he would be doing in less than thirty seconds.

"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Uncle Vernon. "We should all be in position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be — ?"

Harry tuned his relatives out, eating his toast and staring off into space.

"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry, who had tuned back in just in time, "And you?"

"I'll be in my bedroom, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry tonelessly. _And reading the school books you don't even know I have in my room._

"Exactly," said Uncle Vernon nastily, "I will lead them into the lounge, introduce you, Petunia, and pour them drinks. At eight-fifteen —"

Harry tuned them out again, eating the last bite of his toast.

"And you?" said Uncle Vernon viciously to Harry after awhile.

"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," said Harry dully. _I'll be letting Hedwig out of her cage while practicing accidental/wandless magic._ _And then, actually, I'll be sending Ron a letter because I haven't in weeks._

"Precisely. Now, we should aim to get in a few good compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"

"Vernon tells me you're a wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason… Do tell me where you bought your dress, Mrs. Mason… "

"Perfect… Dudley?"

"How about — 'We had to write an essay about our hero at school, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.'" This was too much for both Aunt Petunia and Harry. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and hugged her son, while Harry ducked under the table so they wouldn't see him laughing. Harry felt as if his lungs were going to burst, and then -

"And you, boy?" Harry fought to keep his face straight as he emerged.

"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there," he droned. _I'll be waiting for Ron's reply that will tell me when he can get me out of this place to study with him. And I'll be waiting for all of the rest of the letters he'd said he'd send, too._

"Too right, you will," said Uncle Vernon forcefully, and then continued to blab about what everyone was going to do.

"Right — I'm off into town to pick up the dinner jackets for Dudley and me. And you," he snarled at Harry, "You stay out of your aunt's way while she's cleaning."

Harry left through the back door. It was a brilliant, sunny day, but to him, it couldn't be more gloomy. He crossed the lawn, slumped down on the garden bench, and sang under his breath:

"Happy birthday to me… happy birthday to me…"

* * *

 _-Ginny's POV-_

Fred and George were not taking the idea of Percy being a Prefect again lightly. Hermes, Percy's new owl that he got for becoming a Prefect last year, didn't help the matter.

Ginny had caught Fred and George sneaking up to Percy's room with a bucket of paint and some rope earlier in the morning, and they asked her to help them set a trap for Percy. After making them promise not to claim she was guilty if they were caught, Ginny agreed. Percy was being a brat. He shut himself up in his room, only coming out to show off his badge and boss Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny around.

Ginny was dumping glitter, which were shaped as Ps, into another bucket which George brought up in the second round of supplies. Fred had explained that the paint was sticky, and when Percy came out of his room, the paint would dump on him, setting off the glitter, which would stick to the paint, and ultimately, Percy. The paint bucket dropping would also cause a bouncy ball to hit the switch in the corner, causing the shaving cream to spray.

"Where did you get all of this muggle stuff?" Ginny asked as she pulled the glitter bucket up with the rope.

"From the garage. Dad's got a load of muggle stuff he is tinkering with there." Fred replied "Don't tell mum."

Ginny tied the last knot and whispered "I'm done."

"Me too." Fred and George added in unison.

Fred crept up the stairs and placed a film-device the muggles called a camera on the wall that they had made sure would stay clean. Ginny stood up.

"What now?" She asked.

George stood up and walked up the stairs to join Fred.

"Percy will be out in ten minutes to get more polish from the basement." He replied, sitting down on the top step, "We will watch from up here, and then get away before he sees us through the paint."

Ginny ascended the stairs, careful not to make a creek. She sat down above Fred and George, ensuring she would get out faster.

"Why didn't you wake Ron?" She asked curiously, "He would want to see this."

"I wouldn't be to sure about that if I were you." George said, "Ron might decide to take the Perfect path instead and get us all into trouble."

"He wouldn't." Ginny said defensively, "He hates Percy as much as we do. And Harry Potter's going to be a Prefect. All of the teachers like him."

"Harry Potter?" Fred asked wondrously "He's already broke too many rules. He's our type."

"He broke the rules for a good reason" Ginny said hotly, "He saved the world from You-Know-Who."

Fred and George both turned and looked at her.

"Shh!"

Ginny would have kept arguing, but just then they heard a creak of the floorboards and were silenced.

Percy, who seemed to be as jubilant as ever, thrust open the door and took a step forward.

Paint, glitter and shaving cream sprayed almost everywhere, most plastering on Percy and his badge. Pink, purple, gold and blues splattered and stuck to whatever they landed on. Percy looked like a painting. Fred clicked the camera off and stared. They all struggled to contain their laughter. When Ginny's ribs felt like they were trying to break, she gave herself three more seconds before she sped off to her room, slamming the door shut and gasping for breath, grinning.

* * *

 _-Hermione's POV-_

" _Dumbledore_ said to come here?" She asked, fighting to not wince against the cold breeze that washed over her, "To Hogwarts front doors?"

Hermione and Alastor Moody were standing in front of the doors at Hogwarts at night, listening to roars of happiness inside the doors. Hermione looked at the doors with longing - it was the end of term feast. Harry and Ron would be there.

But she couldn't go inside.

"Yes, girl." Moody said exasperatedly, "Don't make me tell you more then once. Dumbledore heard someone knocking at the end of the feast, but, when the doors opened, no one was there, so we're sent to observe."

Hermione nodded, and then jumped into a bush to the side of the doors. She winced as she hit the ground, pain flaring up on the left side of her face, where a jig jagged, almost lightning bolt like scar had formed from the Cruciatus curse. Moody sighed, his wooden leg creaking, and he made his way into the bushel as well.

The roaring inside went on.

Nobody showed up.

"How long do we have?" Hermione whispered to Moody.

"A minute." Moody whispered harshly, "Be quiet."

Thirty seconds passed.

No one.

Twenty.

Nobody.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

"Wait." Hermione whispered, realization hitting her like a bolt of lighting, "It was us."

Seven.

Six.

" _What?_ " Moody barked.

Five.

"IT WAS US! IT _IS_ US!" Hermione shouted, jumping up from the bushes.

Four.

Three.

"Wha-" Moody began, before his eyes widened, "Oh."

Two.

Moody jumped up, sending twigs flying everywhere.

One.

Zero.

The two knocked on the doors of Hogwarts nine times.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

* * *

 _-Harry's POV-_

Harry sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been staring absent mindedly into the hedge — and the hedge was staring back. Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.

Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the lawn.

"I know what day it is," sang Dudley, waddling toward him.

The huge eyes blinked and vanished.

"What?" Harry asked, not really paying attention to Dudley and not taking his eyes off the spot where they had been.

"I know what day it is," Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.

"Well done," said Harry, his voice laden with sarcasm, "So you've finally learned the days of the week."

"Today's your birthday," sneered Dudley, "How come you haven't got any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"

"Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school," said Harry coolly.

"What? Scared? Did one of them die in a freakish accident?"

Harry froze.

"Don't pretend." Dudley said in a mocking voice, "I hear you at night. _Hermione! Hermione! Please, don't - please, I'll do anything - HERMIONE!_ "

Harry's eyes got very, very narrowed. They looked like a snakes; slitted and dangerous.

"Who was Hermione?" Dudley asked, not knowing the danger he was in, "A girlfriend? Ah, too bad she _died_ then."

"Jiggery pokery!" said Harry in a fierce voice, "Hocus pocus — squiggly wiggly —"

He wasn't actually doing any magic, and this was purely because he was reminded of what Hermione would say to doing magic _in plain sight_ of muggles. But he was going to frighten Dudley - yes, yes he would.

Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.

"You c-can't — Dad told you you're not to do m-magic — he said he'll chuck you out of the house — and you haven't got anywhere else to go — you haven't got any friends to take you — they're all dead anyways - died like all you freaks should -"

"Abracadabra!" And for one wild moment, Harry wished he had instead said _Avada Kedavra_ , and he wished it would have worked with all his heart -

"MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed back toward the house, "MUUUUM! He's doing you know what!"

Harry then felt very, _very_ guilty. And afraid. Had he _really_ wanted to kill a child? Kill him with the same spell Voldemort had killed him parents with? With the same spell Voldemort had tried to kill _him_ with?

Did that mean he was as bad as Voldemort?

Harry shook his head at himself, fighting to drive those thoughts away. He _hadn't_ killed Dudley, and that was the difference between Voldemort and him. It was what made Harry good and Voldemort bad.

 _Right?_

Anyways, Harry paid dearly for his moment of anger. As Dudley was not in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew he hadn't really done magic, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at his head with a soapy frying pan. Then she gave him work to do, with the promise he wouldn't eat again until he'd finished.

While Dudley lolled around watching the telly and eating ice cream, looking awfully smug, Harry cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck. Harry knew he shouldn't have risen to Dudley's bait, but Dudley had said that Harry didn't have any friends at Hogwarts… and Dudley had said that Hermione _deserved_ to die...

No one deserved to die that way… except for maybe Voldemort...

It was half past seven in the evening when at last, exhausted, he heard Aunt Petunia calling him.

"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"

Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen, grabbing the newspaper on his way in and putting it on the table. He looked around. On top of the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven. It all smelled and looked heavenly. Not as good as Hogwarts food, of course, but better than Harry was likely to get.

"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia, who was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. _Yep, way better_.

Harry washed his hands and quickly ate his pitiful supper, wondering if Ron was having some of Mrs. Weasley's excellent fudge and forgetting all about Harry at his house. A bit of jealousy rose up in him, but he quickly forced it down. Ron probably had a reason for why he hadn't written; after all, Harry couldn't because of the Dursleys.

The moment Harry had finished eating, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate.

"Upstairs! Hurry!"

As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jackets. He nearly laughed at the sight of them. It was like watching two beluga whales stand together in suits.

Harry had only just reached the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"Remember, boy — one sound —"

Harry crossed to his bedroom on tiptoe, slipped inside, and closed the door.

Perhaps he would take a little nap before writing his letter… he was, after all, very tired...

Harry turned to collapse on his bed.

The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.

* * *

 _-Ron's POV-_

 _Two days after Harry's birthday…_

In the weeks following the Painted Prefect Percy Incident, as the twins had begun to call it, Ron sent more letters to Harry, never receiving a letter back. The first time it happened, Ron blamed Errol. The second time, he started to worry.

"You're overreacting." Percy commented confidently one day when Ron explained his worries over dinner, "Your friend's probably fine."

"They could be starving him." Ron objected, "It's not like Harry to not respond."

Fred and George took Ron's side immediately, despite their complaints earlier about Ron.

"Yeah." George agreed, "What will we do without Harry at school? We can't let our best possible recruit die."

"I doubt it will come to that." Mum said nervously, seeming to only have heard the part about Harry dieing.

"Let's go get him!" Ginny said, "You can apparate, can't you?"

"We c-" Percy's objection was quickly cut off by Dad.

"Why don't we wait a week or so?" He said, "If we don't here from your friend- Harry, yes?- we can go get him."

No one objected, but Percy looked like he wanted to. His face was a deep shade of red, quickly turning to magenta, clearly unhappy that he was being undermined. He stood up and stalked off to his room muttering that 'he had to send a letter'.

Mum and Dad got up too, leaving Ginny, Ron, Fred and George alone.

"There's no way Harry will last another week if he is being starved." Ron whispered.

"How are we supposed to do anything?" Ginny asked, "You know the laws, we're underage."

Fred grinned.

"I have a plan."

That's when Hedwig flew into the window, letterless, drawing all of their attention.

Ron turned back to the twins.

"Well then, let's get started."

 _For Hermione._

 _And as she said -_

 _Together._

* * *

 _-Hermione's POV-_

 _-Approximately nine month later, including time traveling years-_

" _Stupefy!_ " Hermione shouted at Alastor, leaning back to dodge the incoming spell he sent her way, and then, under her breath, "Accio!"

Alastor had dodged the first spell, but not the desk, which hit him straight in the back. He toppled to the floor.

"Stupefy!"

Somehow, the old auror managed to dodge again.

"Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Accio!" Hermione shouted. Alastor had already gotten to his feet, and was dodging the first two spells. This time, he remembered to jump out of the way of an incoming chair. Hermione had almost beat him the first time she had tried using the same technique, which was a bit after she had learned _Accio_ for the first time.

"Stupefy!" Alastor cast back, "Glissio! Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Hermione dodged out of the path of the first two spells, cursing as the floor around her turned smooth like ice. She landed flat on her back, the other two spells fling above her. She was thankful that her scar still didn't hurt after all of this time. For the first two months, including the time travel ones, it had. Alastor had warned her, however, that it might never go away, because it was created when she was under the Cruciatus, and dark magic injuries… well, they couldn't be healed.

"Stupefy!"

Rolling over on the floor, Hermione stood up as she got on to normal ground again.

"Expe-" Alastor started.

"Accio!" Hermione cried.

"-lliar-"

"Stupe-"

"-mus!"

"-fy!"

Hermione grinned as she dodged the red jet of light that had been heading towards her, watching Alastor frantically dodge the first spell.

Only to dodge the second.

 _Humph._

"Stupefy!" Alastor cast back.

And then, Hermione had an Idea.

No, not an idea.

An _Idea_.

You see, she had never beaten Alastor in a duel, no, not even once over the nine months she'd been working with him. Granted, she was almost finished with fourth year while he had gone through Hogwarts and had auror training, but still. Alastor was crazily paranoid, as well.

I mean, Hermione had learned it from _someone_.

Anyways, now, in the last week together, she had an Idea.

No, not and idea.

An _Idea_.

Hermione waited until the last moment, and then narrowly dodged the spell. She fell to the floor, not moving a bit. She gazed up at the ceiling, preserving a shocked look on her face. Hermione had been _Stupefy_ ed before, and she now could only hope that she looked like she was.

She had to be astonishingly deceptive to fool a paranoid auror like Alastor, if only for a few moments.

"Well, then, I win." Alastor said, a bit smugly, walking over to Hermione with his wand to the side but still pointed at her, "So what did you learn from th-"

"Stupefy." Hermione whispered, and Alastor's eyes widened as he toppled over.

Hermione laughed her maniacal laugh that the Cruciatus curse had left her with.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" She roared.

* * *

 _-Harry's POV-_

Harry managed not to shout out, but it was a close call. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been watching him out of the garden hedge that morning. And, he knew from a book he had red about purebloods, this was a house elf.

As they stared at each other, Harry heard Dudley's voice from the hall.

"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

All Harry could think was, _This is really, really bad._

The house elf slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm and leg holes.

"Er — hello," Harry said nervously. If the Dursleys heard him - or them, he supposed - he would be _dead_.

Ok. Maybe not _quite_ so literally, but it would be a close thing.

"Harry Potter!" the creature shrieked in a high-pitched voice that Harry was sure would carry down the stairs, "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir _..._ Such an honor it is..."

"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her cage, "Who are you?"

He was trying to not offend the elf, who Harry was now sure would have _quite_ the emotional reaction if he did.

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf." the creature - Dobby - replied delightedly.

"Oh — really?" said Harry, "Er — I don't want to be rude or anything, but — this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."

Aunt Petunia's high, false laugh sounded from the living room. The elf hung his head.

"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, hoping not to offend Dobby, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly, "Dobby has come to tell you, sir _..._ it is difficult, sir _..._ Dobby wonders where to begin..."

"Sit down," said Harry politely, pointing at the bed. Hopefully, it would make the elf more comfortable to talk and then get _out_ of his bedroom.

To his horror, the elf burst into tears — very, _very_ noisy tears.

" _S-sit down_!" he wailed, " _Never...never ever_..."

Harry thought he heard the voices downstairs falter.

 _Oh no oh no oh no_.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in attempt to placate the elf, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything —"

"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf,"Dobby has _never_ been asked to sit down by a wizard — like an _equal_ —"

Harry was finished with this. He had dealt with _Voldemort_ , and if this puny little creature was going to get him into trouble, ruin his chances at defeating Voldemort, at avenging Hermione-

"Be quiet!" Harry hissed sharply, and Dobby immediately did so. A few tears still leaked from his eyes, "Good. Now _sit_."

Dobby did so. He looked at Harry with watery, adoring eyes. They stared at each other for a moment. Harry took a few deep breaths to calm himself. The noise downstairs started back up again with a few nervous laughs. It was going to be alright, Harry thought, he wasn't going to get into trouble… He would see Ron again...

"You can't have met many decent wizards, if you haven't been asked, I mean." said Harry, trying to cheer him up and feeling a bit guilty.

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting;

" _Bad_ Dobby! _Bad_ Dobby!"

Nope. It was _definitely not_ going to be alright.

And Harry _definitely_ did not feel guilty anymore.

"Don't — what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed — Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.

"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, Dobby, who had gone slightly cross-eyed, "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir..."

Harry remembered this rom his book. House elves were bound to serve one family forever, unless they were freed by their owners. House elves usually had to obey that family, no matter what...

"Do they know you're here?" Harry asked curiously, before mentally scolding himself - if Dobby had just about beat himself at thinking badly of his owners, mentioning them like that...

Dobby shuddered.

"Oh, no, sir, no _..._ Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir — Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments..."

Harry was furious. Why - that was practically _slavery_! When he read it in the book, he'd gotten some form of distaste, but it hadn't seemed this bad...

"But why don't you leave? Ask for them to set you free? What do they have to do again? Oh yeah... Why don't you ask for them to give you clothes?" He asked instead of shouting his thoughts aloud and disturbing the Dursleys - though they were probably already very disturbed...

"The family will never set Dobby free _..._ Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir..."

Harry stared. He'd never thought it would be this bad.

"And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks," he said, feeling pity for the creature, "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can anyone help you? Can I?"

Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

"Please," Harry whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here —"

"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby _..._ Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew..."

"Be quiet!" Harry said as loud as he could without alerting the Dursleys, though they had probably already been alerted anyways.

Dobby hiccuped, and then was quiet once again. Harry noticed with a bit of horror that the elf was very good at following orders.

"Ah, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing, "I is sorry, sir Harry Potter. He is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later _...Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts_."

There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.

"W-what?" Harry stammered, "But I've got to go back — term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't _belong_ here. I belong in your world — at Hogwarts. With Ron."

And he needed to study up to defeat Voldemort. He had to go back - had to go back for _Hermione_ \- it all was for Hermione, wasn't it -

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" Harry asked in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" asked Harry at once, "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.

"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning _me_?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him, "Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with Vol — sorry —" Harry said as Dobby winced, opening his mouth to let out another wail, "with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," he added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

"Not — not _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ , sir —"

But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost. Moments like these were when he'd wish that Hermione was here to decipher clues. She was always really good at logic and things like that...

"He hasn't got a brother, has he?" Harry asked, clueless.

Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"A son?"

Another no.

"A _daughter_?"

Nope.

"Then - oh, _I don't know._ " Harry said, impatient, "Can't you give me a hint?"

"No, sir," — Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper — "I is sorry - but maybes - hmm… yes, maybes…" His eyes were very wide, "There are powers great Headmaster Albus Dumbledore doesn't _..._ powers no decent wizard..."

And before Harry could stop him, Dobby abruptly ended his cryptic clue and bounded off the bed, seized Harry's desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with ear-splitting yelps.

A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry, heart thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling;

"Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"

"Quick! In the closet!" hissed Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flinging himself onto the bed just as the door handle turned.

"What — the — _devil_ — are — you — doing?" said Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's,"You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke _..._ One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy!"

He stomped out of the room.

Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet. He had a half a mind to keep him in there, but that probably wasn't the best idea...

"See what it's like here?" he said. "See why I've got to go back to Hogwarts? It's the only place I've got — well, I _think_ I've got - a friend."

"A friend who don't even _write_ to Harry Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"I expect they've just been — wait a minute," said Harry, frowning, "How do _you_ know my friend hasn't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best —"

" _Have you been stopping my letters?_ "

This elf - Harry was going to _strangle_ him - he was the one who had made Harry lose precious communication with Ron - this elf was going to _pay_ \- he was going to pay for _Hermione's_ sake -

"Dobby has them here, sir," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid. He also saw the letters he'd tried to send in secret through the postman. They were all in a bundle, never received. _Never ever ever never never ever ever -_

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry _..._ Dobby hoped _..._ if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him _..._ Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir..."

Harry wasn't listening. He made a grab for the letters, lunging forward at the elf.

Dobby attempted to jump out of his reach, but, when Harry rebalanced himself again, he held the wad of letters in his hand, victorious.

Dobby looked very sad.

"Give Dobby your word, Harry Potter." Dobby whispered, "Yours word not to go to Hogwarts this year."

"No!" Harry snarled, clutching his letters protectively, "Now _get out_!"

Dobby did not move.

"Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly.

"Dobby, I command you to stop." Harry frantically blurted as a last resort when Dobby reached the door out of his room in what seemed to be a millisecond. The elf looked back, torn.

"Yous is not my masters, Harry Potter." Dobby eventually said.

Before Harry could reach a hand out to stop him, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs.

Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harry sprang after him, trying not to make a sound. He jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room he heard Uncle Vernon saying;

" _..._ tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear..."

Harry ran up the hall into the kitchen and felt his stomach disappear.

Aunt Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.

"No," croaked Harry, "Please _..._ they'll kill me..."

"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school —"

"Dobby...please..."

"Say it, sir —"

Then Harry had an idea. Dobby wouldn't know if he was _lying_ , would he? Harry felt very cunning in the moment, fighting back a grin of success.

"Fine then!" Harry hissed, acting the best he could to look very cross, "I won't go!"

Dobby looked triumphant. He gave Harry a grin.

"Then Dobby will go." Dobby replied, looking at Harry, "Goodbye, Harry Potte-"

It was then when Mrs. Mason spotted the floating cake.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" She screamed, standing up from the couch she had been sitting on and pointing at it, "WHAT - IS - THAT?!"

"Oh no." Dobby said, his eyes widening, "I am sorrys, Harry Potter but I must go."

Dobby disappeared with a _crack_ like a whip, and the pudding began to fall.

Harry dove to the floor, stretching his hands out as far as he could and desperately wishing for it to fall right -

The pudding landed smoothly onto Harry's hands.

The Dursleys and the Masons stared at him with emotions ranging from shock (Petunia and the Masons), fear (Mrs. Mason), horror (Petunia and Dudley), and anger (Vernon).

Harry desperately searched his mind for a solution - something, just something -

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen!" He said, standing up and bowing with a flourish, holding the pudding out in front of him, "I am your hired magician today, and _that_ , my fellows, was the first act!"

They stared at him. Harry gulped. _Oh no, this isn't working, I'm dead-_

Suddenly, Mr. Mason roared in laughter, causing the Dursleys to chuckle (nervously) along as well. Mrs. Mason giggled a bit once she realized that it was 'all a trick' and sat down. The Masons looked at him, obviously waiting for him to do another trick. Harry searched for something he could do as he bowed.

There was a quiet hoot from outside, and Harry's eyes widened. He'd forgotten the rule - or was it a law? - Dobby's magic must have set off the magic alarm or whatever the Ministry used to see if a minor did magic.

Harry held the pudding above his head.

"Please follow me to the dining room." He said, before spinning the dessert. Everybody gasped as it managed to stay on his pointer finger (Harry's controlled _ish_ magic again). Harry grinned at the group before leading them into the dining room - and just in time, too. Harry told them that he'd be back in a moment before shutting the door and rushing back to where he'd been.

A huge barn owl swooped through the kitchen window, dropping a letter on the counter before swooping back out. Harry ran to the counter and picked up the letter, reading it in horror:

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine._

 _As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school. (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C)._

 _We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy._

 _Enjoy your holidays!_

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Mafalda Hopkirk_

 _IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE_

 _Ministry of Magic_

Harry shoved the letter in his a kitchen drawer, inhaling deeply. This was both good and bad news for Harry; the bad was he had gotten his first warning for something he didn't do. The good was that the magic he had done to calm the Masons down didn't register with the Ministry as wanded magic. _Maybe_ , Harry thought, _the Ministry thinks it's accidental magic_.

Harry felt pride. Maybe he _could_ think like Hermione, after all.

He grabbed some fish string and tied it to the roast pork, determined to make the Masons not suspect he was a wizard. He floated it up to the ceiling, making the string touch the ceiling. He re-entered the dining room, waving his hands around eccentrically, as if it helped him make the dinner float. The Masons gasped as he entered, but he could see Mr. Mason looking around for the string. Harry made the roast porkland on the table, shaking a bit from the effort.

"How do you do it?" Mrs. Mason asked, smiling. Harry gave her a grin.

"I'm sorry, miss," Harry began, "But it's all just a trick."

He reached out and snached the string from the air, showing it to the Masons and the Dursleys. Mr. Mason again roared with laughter.

"Nice one, boy!" He said, "Where did you learn to do that?"

Harry did some quick thinking Hermione would have been proud of.

"I go to a boarding school." He said, "My teachers like this magic stuff. They know how to do it, and a lot more. They showed me how to do things like this."

The Masons nodded.

The crazy thing was, it was true.

"Now, I must go." Harry said, bowing one last time, "Goodbye."

He vanished, quickly drawing his invisibility cloak, which he had kept in his pocket, around him. The Masons and the Dursleys gasped. In their astonishment, Harry left the dining room, his clothing drenched with sweat.

For once in his life, he felt that maybe he did belong at the Dursleys'.

Two hours later, when the Masons left, Harry did not feel that way anymore.

Uncle Vernon stomped upstairs, throwing the door to Harry's room open with a mighty crash. Harry looked up from his bed, where he sat, looking frightened. Uncle Vernon advanced on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes and a letter in his hands.

"Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter, "Go on — read it!" Harry took it. It was the one Harry had put in the kitchen drawer and forgotten to take back out. He gulped.

"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," said Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes, "Forgot to mention it _..._ Slipped your mind, I daresay..."

"Uncle Vernon, you got your deal, right?..." Harry whispered in an attempt to placate his uncle. Uncle Vernon did not budge.

"No thanks to you and your magic!" He shouted, "You did it in the house, in front of them - what if they spread the word, boy?! Well, I've got news for you _..._ I'm locking you up… You're never going back to that school _..._ never _..._ and if you try and magic yourself out — they'll expel you!"

Uncle Vernon did not know that Harry _could_ still do magic - his controlled _ish_ type. But not knowing was enough for him.

Laughing like a maniac, Harry's uncle shut the door to his bedroom and deadbolted it. Harry heard, in horror, him adding locks upon locks to the outside, where they were out of Harry's reach and therefore out of his magic range. The following morning, he paid a man to fit bars on Harry's window as Harry watched, terror overcoming him. How was he to get Ron letters now? Uncle Vernon had also fitted a cat-flap in the bedroom door, so that small amounts of food could be pushed inside three times a day. They let Harry out to use the bathroom once every morning and once every evening. Otherwise, he was locked in his room around the clock.

Three days later, the Dursleys were showing no sign of relenting, and Harry couldn't see any way out of his situation. He lay on his bed watching the sun sinking behind the bars on the window and wondered miserably what was going to happen to him. He at least mustered the energy to read his letters from Ron and Hagrid, which he had snatched as Uncle Vernon had been yelling. Hagrid's was nice, just saying hello. There was only one from him.

Ron's letters, which were plentiful, seemed to get more frantic as the weeks had gone on.

 _Harry?_

 _Harry, why haven't you responded?_

 _Harry, are you alright?_

 _Happy birthday, Harry. WHY HAVEN'T YOU RESPONDED?!_

 _Harry? HARRY?!_

 _Harry, if you don't reply, I'm going to tell Mum and Dad to come get you…_

Ron's last letter had given him hope, but when he looked at the date and saw that it had been written a week and a half ago, he lost hope that Ron was going to come get him. A sick thought emerged in his mind; what if Ron had given up on him?

Harry did not know what to do. His controlled(ish) magic was not strong enough to get him out of his room, and, well, what was the good of magicking himself out with his wand, witch was stored with the rest of his stolen things under his bed, if Hogwarts would expel him for doing it? Life at Privet Drive had reached an all-time low. Now that the Dursleys knew (or thought, as least) they weren't going to wake up as fruit bats, he had lost his only weapon. Dobby might have saved Harry from horrible happenings at Hogwarts (Harry doubted it - the elf had probably been lying), but the way things were going, he'd probably starve to death anyway.

The cat-flap rattled and Aunt Petunia's hand appeared, pushing a bowl of canned soup into the room. Harry, whose insides were aching with hunger, jumped off his bed and seized it. The soup was stone-cold, but he drank half of it in one gulp. Then he crossed the room to Hedwig's cage and tipped the soggy vegetables at the bottom of the bowl into her empty food tray. She ruffled her feathers and gave him a look of deep disgust.

"It's no good turning your beak up at it — that's all we've got," said Harry grimly. Hedwig watched him, her owl face seemingly turning grim, and ate up the vegetables. Harry attempted to give a smile, but it ended up looking ghostly from frowning in worry over the whole sumer. At least he had Hedwig, Harry thought.

He put the empty bowl back on the floor next to the cat-flap and lay back down on the bed, somehow even hungrier than he had been before the soup.

Supposing he was still alive in another four weeks, what would happen if he didn't turn up at Hogwarts? Would someone be sent to see why he hadn't come back? Would they be able to make the Dursleys let him go? Would he be able to avenge Hermione from inside this jail?

Harry then realized that he needed to keep on studying. If he was ever going to get out, he needed to be prepared to fight. He needed to get better at controlled magic and get out. He'd go to Ron and explain, then. He resolved to start in the morning, for it was growing dark. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions and worries, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep, his last thoughts:

 _For Hermione._

 _And as she said -_

 _Together._

He dreamed that he was on show in a zoo, with a card reading UNDERAGE WIZARD attached to his cage. People goggled through the bars at him as he lay, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He saw Dobby's face in the crowd and shouted out, asking for help, but Dobby called;

"Harry Potter is safe there, sir!" and vanished. Then Hermione was carted in, a scar on her head where it had been hit those months ago. She looked very dead, and was hung up like a decoration in the cage beside him. A card reading DIED FOR HARRY POTTER - NEVER AVENGED was on her cage. People jeered at him when they saw that, throwing things. Harry ducked his head at an apple, sorrowful that it was true.

Then came Ron. He stood outside Harry's cage, not saying a word as Harry begged him to let him out. He finally stepped back.

"You didn't respond." Ron said, "We're not friends anymore, Harry."

Then Ron turned into Quirrelmort, who was laughing maniacally and stole Hermione's body from the zoo as Harry cried out in despair.

Then the Dursleys appeared and Dudley rattled the bars of the cage, laughing at him.

"Stop it," Harry muttered as the rattling pounded in his sore head, "Leave me alone _..._ cut it out _..._ I'm trying to sleep..."

He opened his eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone _was_ goggling through the bars at him: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone.

Ron Weasley was outside Harry's window.

* * *

 _-Ginny's POV-_

Everything was prepared. The plan was to take place at night. Ginny would stay behind - she didn't want to, of course - to make sure Mum wouldn't wake up and find the twins and Ron missing. Ginny only agreed to stay behind because George promised they wouldn't tell on Ginny if they were caught, like when Ginny helped them prank Percy.

Ginny, Ron, Fred, and George went to sleep early, at 9 o'clock - they wanted to make sure they wouldn't fall asleep on their mission - and Ginny set an alarm on a watch Fred and George gave her, setting it on _Silent Buzz._ Ron was also given a watch, and Fred and George had one each. Of course, the twins wanted the watches back after Harry's rescue.

They awoke at midnight. Mum went to sleep early, having had to deal with Fred and George's Prefect antics, which was part of the plan, so they had a clear getaway. Dad was away, as well as Bill and Charlie.

Ginny crept downstairs last and met up with the others in the garage. The boys were already in the car, and the garage door was open.

"Did Mum drink the hearing pill before bed?" George asked.

Ginny nodded. The pills were a key part of actually getting out of the house; it made the consumer have a restless night, even if their eardrums shattered from the noise. It only worked for 6 hours however, so Percy and Mum could wake at three, because they unknowingly consumed the pills at nine. Ginny had no idea where the twins got their hands on the pills. Actually, now that she thought of it, they probably agreed to go so they could test the pills out. And of course, they thought Harry Potter could become the next Fred and George of Hogwarts.

"I slipped it in her water."

"Percy?"

"Same."

George looked at Fred. Fred looked at Ron.

"Then let's go."

They fired up the engine. Ginny had just enough time to wave before they disappeared into the night.

Ginny shut the garage door and checked her watch. It read 12:06. The twins and Ron were supposed to be back at around 2:45, which would be cutting it short, but they had no other options.

Ginny walked to the middle of the stairs; so she could see both Percy's and Mum's rooms. She sat down and waited.

The time seemed to slow down. What seemed like hours for Ginny was only forty-five minutes later. Ginny's eyes began to droop. She shook herself and stared at the door to Mum's room.

After only a few seconds, she began to tire again. Ginny suddenly remembered George had promised to make her a drink for when she got tired and he had left it on the counter. Ginny walked down the stairs and groped in the dark until her hand found a mug. Ginny took a sip and gagged.

The drink was bitter. Like dark chocolate, but not as sweet, and like dirt, but the texture was smooth.

Ginny swallowed. George had told her to drink it all, so she chugged the rest, trying not to concentrate on the taste. She finished and wiped her mouth, disgusted. George had said muggles drank the drink all of the time. Ginny was still wondering how they could bear it when a loud popping noise sounded from upstairs. She froze, afraid Mum and Percy would wake up, when she realized that they had drank the pills.

Ginny raced upstairs to the twins' room, where the sound was coming from. Adrenaline coursed through her, probably the after effect of the drink. She turned the knob to their room and pushed open the door. After catching a glimpse of the scene in the twins' room, she slammed the door shut behind her.

Black domed shaped objects were bouncing around the room, duplicating as they went. Fog was coming of of the tops of the projectiles, making it very hard to see. They seemed like Filibuster prank toys, but Ginny hadn't ever heard of this one.

Ginny stood there, clueless about how to stop the objects. It looked like the objects wouldn't stop any time soon, and that would cause a problem at three. She stood there, dumbfounded, when an idea struck her. Of course, she didn't have a _wand_ , and Fred, George, and Ron probably had taken theirs with them, but Percy had one. And Ginny knew exactly where he kept it. She remembered what Fred had said before his first year at Hogwarts;

"I can use magic now, I just can't when I walk through Hogwarts' doors. Counts as accidental 'till then."

Ginny blindly rummaged underneath Fred's - or was it George's - bed. Her hand caught on a book and, praying it would hold useful information, she ran out of the room.

She ran down the stairs to Percy's room, her feet slapping the floor as she ran upstairs. Part of her wasn't sure the pills could keep the rest of the family asleep, but not a single sound emerged from Percy's or Mum's room.

She opened Percy's door and spotted the end of his wand poking out from underneath his pillow. She would have laughed, if not for the situation she was in.

Ginny grabbed Percy's wand and dashed upstairs, frantically scanning the pages for a spell that would work. She stumbled on the last step, sending the book flying out of her hands.

When she picked the book up, she spotted the spell on the top of the page. It read; _Reducto, a spell that will break, or damage, in cases of larger objects or living creatures._

Ginny scanned the page for details on how to use the spell. Once she was ready, she opened the door, quickly shutting it behind her.

The room was now almost too foggy to see straight. Ginny fired her first reducto at a black orb close to herself. The orb cracked a bit, but otherwise Ginny did no damage.

After a few more tries, when Ginny was about to give up, a black orb shattered as her yelled _REDUCTO!_ hit it. Ginny let out a sigh of relief and started casting at a group of quickly-multiplying orbs.

Soon Ginny's _reducto_ s grew strong enough to blast a few orbs at a time, which was good, because her spells hit an orb every time another one doubled.

As the projectiles grew less plentiful, the fog dissipated enough for Ginny to get a better look at them before she shattered them. There was a hole in the top, where steam came out, and feet-like parts on the bottom.

Ginny scooped some shards up and placed them in her pocket before leaving the twins' room, the rest in charred piles. They could clean up their own mess, for all she cared.

* * *

 _-Harry's POV-_

"Ron." breathed Harry, creeping to the window and pushing it up so they could talk through the bars, "Ron, how did you —? What the —?"

Harry's mouth fell open as the full impact of what he was seeing hit him. Ron was leaning out of the back window of an old, beat-up turquoise car, which was parked _in midair_. Grinning at Harry from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron's elder twin brothers.

" _Harry._ " Ron said, leaning up to the bar so their faces were inches apart, "What happened?"

He looked at the bars with loathing.

"They don't always keep you locked up like this, right?" Ron asked. Harry shook his head.

"No, only just recently, after I got the notice from the Ministry. Uncle Vernon saw it, and, well, now that they know I'm not going to turn them into a load of fruit bats..."

Harry trailed off.

"So _that's_ why you haven't been answering my letters." Ron said, "But what about before? I've been sending them all summer, Harry. I've asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you'd got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles —"

"I couldn't - the Dursleys kept Hedwig locked up - and it wasn't me — and how did he know?"

"He works for the Ministry," said Ron, reminding Harry of what he'd said before, "You _know_ we're not supposed to do spells outside school —"

"You should talk," said Harry, staring at the floating car.

"Oh, this doesn't count," said Ron.

"We're only borrowing this." Fred - or was it George - not, he was starting - it had to be Fred -

"It's Dad's-" George continued.

" _we_ didn't enchant it."

"But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with —" Ron interjected again.

"I told you, I didn't — but it'll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won't let me come back, and obviously I can't magic myself out - well, with a wand, at least, but that's another story for later - because the Ministry will think that's the second spell I've done in three days, so —"

"Stop gibbering," said Ron, "We've come to take you home with us. You've at least been doing your research?"

Harry nodded solemnly.

"But you can't magic me out either —" He started after their moment of silence.

"We don't need to," Ron replied with a grin, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning, "You forget who I've got with me."

"Tie that around the bars," said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry.

"If the Dursleys wake up, I'm dead," said Harry as he tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car.

"Don't worry," said Fred, "and stand back."

Harry moved back into the shadows next to Hedwig, who seemed to have realized how important this was and kept still and silent. He grabbed his things out from underneath his bed, stuffing everything except for Hedwig and her cage, which she was in, into his trunk. The car revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as the car drove straight up in the air. Harry ran back to the window, luggin his trunk behind him, to see the bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Panting, Ron hoisted the bars up into the car (it was then that Harry realized the two were dreadfully weak). Harry listened anxiously, but there was no sound from the Dursleys' bedrooms.

When the bars were safely in the back seat with Ron, Fred reversed as close as possible to Harry's window.

"Get in." Ron said.

Harry thought he heard Uncle Vernon cough.

Harry shoved his trunk through the window to Ron (and George, who helped him heave it in.)

"Here, I'll come in to help push." Fred said, jumping into the room. He helped just enough - inch by inch, the trunk slid through the window.

Uncle Vernon coughed again.

"A bit more," Fred panted from beside Harry, "One good push —"

Harry and Fred threw their shoulders against the trunk and it slid out of the window into the back seat of the car.

"Okay, let's go," George whispered. Fred climbed in.

There was a rustling sound from behind Harry, and he turned back to Hedwig, another ghostly smile on his face.

"You didn't think I was going to forget you, did you, Hedwig?" He asked. Hedwig gave him a happy look. He grabbed her cage, before pausing. He searched for a piece of paper and placed it by the cat-flap, frantically scribbling.

When he'd finished, Harry climbed into the car, passing Hedwig to Ron first.

"What was that?" Fred asked curiously.

"Oh, just a little letter giving my _sincere_ thanks to them." He said with a grin as George handed the hairpin to Ron and, a moment later ("A lot of wizards think it's a waste of time, knowing this sort of Muggle trick," George commented, "but we feel they're skills worth learning, even if they are a bit slow."), Hedwig soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost.

Hours later, Petunia Dursley reached into the cat-flap to put down her nephew's meal for the day and felt the letter.

 _Dear the Dursleys,_

 _I would like to thank you ever so much for locking me in this room and not allowing me to send letters. If you had, maybe I wouldn't be gone now._

 _So thank you for everything that you've done._

 _I'm joking._

 _For Hermione._

 _And as she said -_

 _Together._

 _See you next summer!_

 _Harry_

 _Harry Potter_

 _HARRY POTTER, A WIZARD._

 _P.S. Ha._


End file.
